


A true love's kiss

by korereapers



Series: FE3H fic series [15]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Seteth Week, it's way too soon but idk if i'll be able to write also I'M impatient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korereapers/pseuds/korereapers
Summary: It is said that only a true love's kiss can wake up a sleeping beauty.
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem)
Series: FE3H fic series [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773310
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Seteth Week Fics





	A true love's kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 aka storytelling! I wanted to write at least SOMETHING about Seteth (and Flayn) so here it goes!

He would like to say that he doesn’t really know how much time it has passed. He would be lying if he did. He knows exactly how many years, how many months, how many days. He mourns on each anniversary, bringing flowers to a grave that he keeps clean even if time has made it illegible.

And each day, he goes back to a particular room, where nobody else is allowed in, even if it’s carefully guarded by a couple of dutiful soldiers. 

He opens the windows after leaving a small amount of papers on a very old armchair, letting both sunlight and air in. The room has no smell, as if nobody was lying there, in the middle of the huge and comfortable looking bed. A cage, no matter how golden.

Cichol is tired. Incredibly tired. The Church of Seiros demands most of his attention, especially these days. Conflicts to mediate in, both inside and outside of Fódlan. Taxes and taxpayers, keeping Garreg Mach afloat even when the political situation is never actually peaceful. Cichol has seen humans come and go, and the only truth he has learnt about them is that they adore conflict. They adore arguing about the tiniest matters.

And frankly, he is exhausted. His eyelids are heavy, but he still takes the time to do this every single day. Luckily or unluckily, the old armchair is still comfortable, and when he finally dares to look at the person that rests on the bed, his heart stops.

Cethleann is peaceful in her sleep. She almost hasn’t grown an inch since she fell asleep, but that’s natural given their long lifespans, and that she is basically in a coma. Cichol’s hands shake as he holds the papers between his hands.

“How have you been, Cethleann?” he finally manages to say, now that he is not scared of his shaking knees giving up on him. He can be as vulnerable as he wants. He is still not going to cry in front of her, ever. That’s reserved for when he is truly alone.

Of course, his daughter doesn’t answer. Her bright green hair shines against the dim sunset light. He still lights a couple of candles, because he knows that he will probably stay the night this time, no matter how tired he is.

And so, he starts reading.

He reads to her, about legends of their people. About the Goddess, about sleeping beauties that ended up waking up because their parents loved them very much (and not their lovers, never their lovers). Different stories, entangled together, Cichol’s voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Hours pass, and it gets difficult to read his eyes tired and only having the candles to be able to see, but he still goes on. Sometimes, when his legs hurt too much, he stands up, and takes the opportunity to fix the blankets around Cethleann, or to gently hold her hand for a while.

Cichol really wishes she can feel his warmth, like he can feel hers.

And like that, the night is gone. The sun lazily peeps through the windows, and Cichol’s green eyes look at his daughter again, with endless love. Tired, incredibly tired, but he doesn’t mind.

He gets up, and bends over by her bedside. He kisses Cethleann’s forehead, a true love kiss, the kind of kiss only parents that love their children can give. The kind of kiss her mother would give her, too, if she were still there.

And like that, the charm works.

Cichol freezes as Cethleann’s eyelids move, slowly, her big, green eyes slowly opening. Too heavy, way too heavy. Sleepier than anyone alive has ever been.

“Mo… Mother…”

Cichol feels tears in his eyes, itching so much that he can barely contain them. He swallows, hard, and holds her hand, shaking a little.

“Father… Where… I…”

“Don’t speak, Cethleann. You’re still sleepy.” he says, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, gently. He sure hopes she doesn’t notice how much his hands are sweating and trembling. “Go back to sleep.”

She looks scared then. Way more scared he has ever seen her. It’s normal, he assumes, that she would be scared after sleeping so long.

“No… I…”

“Go back to sleep, Cethleann. You need to rest.”

“Sleeping… scary… Will not… wake up.”

Cichol freezes in realisation. He cannot leave her, not now. Seiros will have to understand.

“Stay…”

He does. He stays, he sits down again, her eyes on him, her skin pale with fear. And like that, he starts talking, telling her stories he makes up along the way, recreating the voices, the gestures, like when she was younger. She smiles, calming down a little, and slowly, very slowly, falling back asleep.

Cichol will be there when she wakes up again.

He sighs, a huge smile on his face. And then, only then, he allows himself to cry. Because she is really sleeping this time, and not half dead. Because she is alive, with him.

Because, and that much Cichol knows, things can only improve from now on. It’s only fair.

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me on twitter, @korepers


End file.
